


Stolen Moments

by TheYahwehDance



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: 420, Drug Use, Gen, Just Lucifer getting high and having a Good Day, Light one up, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) is a Dork, Lucifer deserves a break, Marijuana, No Angst, No Plot/Plotless, One Shot, Recreational Drug Use, prose without plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 08:56:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18340361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheYahwehDance/pseuds/TheYahwehDance
Summary: Lucifer rolls a spliff, lets his wings out, and listens to some music





	Stolen Moments

**Author's Note:**

> Lucifer really needs a break from all the whump and the angst, this is my attempt to give him a little "me time". He's still a dork though, always will be.

The rock was so perfectly positioned that, had he not known better (and he did), he would have thought it was designed particularly for this moment in time, for this exact feeling of luxurious diversion seeping through his every bone and feather. Golden air thick with chaparral swirled around, the Santa Anas just a whisper on the horizon. Soon they would whip through the city with fire and fear, but for now they remained tantalizingly hesitant, the hot breath of a lover promising better tomorrows and seductive right nows.

Long fingers pulled out a packet of tobacco, rolling papers, and a small jar of Blue Dream. The woman at the dispensary had given him the most delightfully shy smile when he asked for something for little stolen moments, insisting that this glistening blue green bud was the best and strongest. He was happy to take her word for it. Smoking the Devil’s Lettuce was, ironically, not an area he dabbled in too often. He found most strains too weak for his angelic constitution, preferring instead to ingest it, but this particular event called for a smoke.

Tobacco and bud crumbled into the v and expert fingers tucked the spliff together. Licking the top of the paper and pulling it through his lips once to seal it, he inhaled, savoring the interplay of verdant grass and husky smoke. Humans were lovely in many respects, but without any present he didn’t feel the need to fiddle with a lighter. He took another long inhale, holding in the smoke as the end of the spliff burned evenly through. His wings opened with an easy roll of his shoulders and, as if they had a mind of their own, they stretched in the hot air as he tilted back to face the sun directly. Hello old friend, he thought, miss me?

A long exhale followed, the hot breeze forming a halo around his head. He grinned. King of Whatnot and Prince of Something, perhaps, but for now he was no one, just a soul lazily stretched out on top of this perfect rock. He spun the spliff between his fingers, throwing it up lightly and allowing it to twirl sluggishly in the air above his hand for a minute too long. Oh Father, don’t these little playful moments of power feel good when you are high. He repeated the action a few times over, relished the slight rush that emanated from his wings through his fingertips.

With another drag, he felt himself grow heavy and sink further into the rock. Perhaps he could become a rock. That wouldn’t be a bad fate, to watch the city grow and fade around him as he remained immovable and unperturbed. A shrine to high school make outs and tired hikers. He wondered if the rock enjoyed its life, if it wished it were a fallen angel instead, but before he could dive his thoughts dissipated and he forgot what it was he was thinking about that made him so wistful.

The spliff continued to burn, maintaining his halo, and music filled the air. His wings ruffled behind him, flexing out before absorbing the sound and containing it. His own personal satellite of sound. The notes of a warm up enveloped him as a classical pianist moved around the piano to feel it out, intuit its wants and desires. After a little bit of noodling (the thought itself makes him giggle, English is the silliest language) the music became intentional. Mozart’s Sonata 10 in C Major, followed in quick succession by Chopin’s Etude Op.10, and, oh heaven, Listz’s La Campanella. It was so much better than he could have expected. Tomorrow was the pianist’s debut performance with the LA Philharmonic at the Bowl. He was sure he could get tickets, that was never a question, and he did look dashing in a tux, but he had wanted to hear the virtuoso play solely for himself, free of crowds and sycophants, pomp and circumstance. A private performance for him alone.  

He let the spliff sit between his fingers as he moved his own hands in time to the music, allowing himself to believe, if just for a moment, he too was playing with this heightened skill. It felt marvelous. He could almost feel the keys beneath his fingers as he leaned in to the music and, fully lost in the melody, he tumbled forward and almost fell of off his rock. His wings instinctively fluttered, softening the motion and allowing him to catch his balance. Another giggle escaped. He was glad of the solitude, should another soul have seen that he didn’t know if he could live it down. He dusted off his pants sheepishly and resettled.

Hot, dry gusts of wind spiraled down the hillside. He would be dusty and smell of sagebrush but that was a small sacrifice and he once again lost his thoughts to the music and the dreamy, languid high, his eyelashes fluttering closed. Shy Smile was right, this really was divine bud. A few pieces later and he decided to roll another spliff, if only to summon the ethereal flame and sustain his smoldering crown. A light smile played on his lips, his eyes crinkling with enjoyment as the music and smoke mingled around him.

The hot sun beat down on his alabaster wings as the high intensified. For this moment, at least, it was just him and his sun and the music.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Martine for the inspiration, Miah for arranging this, and Miah, Obliobla, and Matchstick for the beta.


End file.
